Changing the Past
by DarkHeart81
Summary: Death has an effect on everyone. And when someone Harry cares for more than life itself dies he'll do anything to get her back, even if it means breaking every law of the Wizarding world.


**Changing the Past**

**Story By:** DarkHeart81 (Silver Dragon)

**Author's Note:** This little fic started out as part of a much larger idea. Though, as so ofter seems to happen with my epicy fic ideas, the ideas ran out before I could get any kind of plot going for it. So in the future I may write something that fills in the back story behind this little idea. But until then, enjoy!

**Summary:** Death has an effect on everyone. And when that someone Harry cares for more than life itself dies he'll do anything to get her back, even if it means breaking every law of the Wizarding world.

**Disclaimer:** Harry Potter, characters, and all related names and phrases are either copyright and/or registered trademarks of J.K. Rowling, Warner Bros. and/or their respective owners.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Ethereal wisps of mist rolled along the ground, playing with the grass like thin transparent fingers. High over head, hidden by a patchwork of dark clouds, the moon strolled lazily through its eternal arc. Its watery light crept through the clouds here and there, joining the light of the few stars that could be seen, to provide just enough illumination on the scene playing out; a scene whose sole actor would gladly forget it if it weren't for what had happened years ago.

The actor, a man clad all in black, shifted ever so slightly at the sound of approaching footsteps on the damp grass. "Go away," he said, not moving from where he knelt, when the quiet footfalls stopped.

For several long seconds there was silence. Only the lonely cry of a wolf, or perhaps it was something much more dangerous, in the distance and the rustle of trees could be heard.

"I said go away Ron." A clap of thunder resounded in the distance.

"There'll be a storm soon," replied Ron. He neither got nor expected a reply. "You should go home before it starts."

Hidden by the hood of his cloak, deep emerald eyes shifted behind a pair of glasses, "I have no home. And don't try and tell me what to do."

"I'm not, Harry. I—"

"You think you know what's best? That you know everything? I'm sick of you and your--"

"Stop it Harry!" snapped Ron as he crossed his arms over his chest, his wand at the ready while hoping he wouldn't need it. "You know that she wou--" Suddenly, with amazing speed, Harry had risen from the ground, his hood falling back, and spun around in a flurry of black cloth before grabbing Ron by the front of his shirt, and yanking him close.

Fire burned in Harry's green eyes as he glared at Ron. "Don't you _ever_ talk about her!" he growled out, venom seething through every word, before releasing him and turning his back. "You have no right. No right."

Ron stood there, silent, for several seconds. He had somewhat expected that Harry would act like this and on some level he couldn't blame him. "I have no right? You're wrong Harry. I have just as much right as you." He fell silent to see what his old friend would say. But when he got no reply, "She was my friend too, Harry. I knew her just as well as you. I loved h--" an invisible hand clamped around his throat, cutting off his words, choking him.

"Don't say that," Harry turned slowly, the dim light of the night sky glinting off his glasses. For a second Ron could have sworn Harry's eyes glowed pale blue with witchfire. "Don't you _dare_ say that you loved Hermione! _YOU_ are the reason she's _dead_! If it weren't for _you_ she'd be here right now!"

Ron looked at him, unflinching, as Harry moved until they were standing toe to toe. The invisible hand around his neck loosened before shoving him back to trip over a gravestone.

"It wasn't my fault," replied Ron as he picked himself up, rubbing his throat. "It was nobody's fault but V-Vol . . . You-Know-Who's."

A sharp disbelieving laugh emanated from Harry as he glowered at the red haired man before him. "That bastard's dead and you still can't say his name. How pathetic."

Ron felt a cold chill run briefly down his spine at the look on his friend's face. No, this wasn't hisfriend. This wasn't, couldn't be, Harry. This man was too cold, too . . . frightening.

"You weren't there Ron. You didn't see it happen right in front of you," Harry's voice was icy, chilling Ron more and more with each word.

What could he say? Was there anything? He had had a year to plan out what he would say at this moment. And now, as he stood face to face with the man he had once called his best friend, all of those words and explanations he had thought of up and vanished like a whiff of smoke on a windy day.

"You weren't there to see her die! You didn't hold her in your arms as the life drained from her! You didn't have her blood soaking into your clothes or feel her final breath on your skin! You weren't there so _don't_ you _dare_ tell me how I should _feel_ you son of a bitch!"

"But . . . "

"But what?" asked Harry as a dark smirk pulled at the corner of his mouth. "You never could do anything on your own. That's why she's dead. She's dead because you lost her wand!"

"Harry I didn--"

"Don't make excuses! Without her wand she wasn't able to defend herself!" Harry turned away from him so he wouldn't see the tears threatening to spill from his eyes.

"I . . . fine. It was my fault. Yes. I did lose her wand. But I didn't do it on purpose. It was an accident . . . " Ron trailed off and stood there slack jawed for several seconds at what he thought he'd just heard Harry say. "Wha-what?"

"We were going to be married," replied Harry in a soft whisper that was barely louder then he had said the words a second ago.

Confusion and surprise played across Ron's face, thoughts of their days together running through his mind as he stared at the back of his friend's head. He knew that they had harbored feelings for each other for a long time. And he knew that they had denied those feelings for some time. It hadn't been until after the death of Harry's godfather that things had really changed between them.

Those were some of the darkest days of Harry's life and Hermione was the only ray of light that pierced his gloomy self imposed isolation. But only because Hermione made the first move. Or at least as close to a first move as she'd allowed herself to make. It wasn't until several years later that Harry had admitted that he loved her and found that she felt the same way about him.

But not long after they had admitted their shared feelings was when _it_ happened. Or at least that's what he and many others thought.

Was it possible that their relationship had been that much more than he had seen or thought? Was it possible that they had been a couple for some time before and had simply bothered to stop hiding it? That they had made it look as though they had just realized their mutual feelings? Yes. Ron supposed it was.

"Two months . . . twenty one days . . . and . . . and . . . we . . . we would have been wed."

Ron swallowed the lump in his throat and opened his mouth to speak, only to find that no words came to him at first. "I . . . never knew you two were that close," he said at length as he rested a hand on Harry's shoulder.

"We wanted to keep it a secret . . . " replied Harry as he gazed down at his lost love's gravestone through watery eyes. It's polished marble glowing in the dim light of the cloudy night sky. "Only Hermione's parents knew. And Dumbledore even though we never told him."

A small smile lightened Ron's face as memories of the old wizard flashed through his mind. "We never could hide anything from him." The warmth in his voice sounded out of place.

Silence settled over them. Harry removed a locket from around his neck and kissed it before laying it atop Hermione's gravestone. "It's constant you know," he said, earning a confused look from Ron. "Unyielding. It has seen mountains rise from the depths of the oceans and watched as they slowly sank back beneath the waves. Life and death ride its unwavering pace. And there's not many that have dared dabble with it. Too afraid of what might happen."

This sudden change in conversation and the cryptic words confused Ron. "What are you talking about Harry?"

"Time, Ron," replied Harry. "Time . . . "

"You know, I think they're right. You have lost your mind," said Ron as a single drop of rain landed on his cheek, causing him to flinch slightly. His tone was playful, joking, not at all befitting of the mood or setting.

Harry found himself laughing even though he didn't find the comment funny. To Ron the laugh sounded hollow.

"Perhaps they're right," replied Harry. "But that's going to change. It's _all_ going to change."

Ron felt a shiver run down his spine. Something about what Harry just said disturbed him. No, it wasn't what he said it was _how_ he said it. "What are you talking about Harry? What are you going t--"

"Actually, it'd be more accurate to say it never happened. Because it won't have happened. I won't allow it," interrupted Harry. "I won't let any of it happen."

"Harry, you're not making any sense."

Harry laughed at him as he drew himself up, "I suppose that it seems that way to you. But it's perfectly clear to me." A smile that sickened Ron upturned the corners of Harry's mouth as he opened his hand. "It's as clear as this piece of crystal."

The ground seemed to fall away from under him as Ron gazed at the piece of crystal in Harry's hand. Suddenly the solution to a recent theft, a theft that he had been charged with investigating and correcting, was right here before him. And now he knew what Harry had meant. If everything was going to change in the way he was implying then that only made the evidence that much more damning. He knew Harry possessed a time turner. But that was good for going back a few hours or maybe a couple of days. A time turner was a child's toy compared to what lay in Harry's hand. It'd be extremely difficult, though not impossible, to go back in time more then a few days with a time turner. But the tiny piece of crystal in Harry's hand made going back to any point in time only a matter of thought. This tiny crystal could be considered the Philosopher's Stone of time travel.

"It was you," said Ron. There was no accusation or questioning in his voice, only the simple statement of fact. "You were the one who broke into the Ministry's vaults."

"Yes. And it was rather fun too," replied Harry with amusement in his voice. "I can see why people become thieves. The thrill of sneaking past unseen. The rush that comes with almost being caught. The excitement of escaping with your prize."

"Harry!" exclaimed Ron as his friend laughed at him.

"I know, I know. You have to arrest me now." Harry grinned at him before turning his attention back to the small magical item in his hand. The crystal's faceted surface glinted and sparkled in the pale light of the stars and moon that filtered through the clouds. "You're no fun since you became an Unspeakable you know that Ron?"

"No . . . No fun?" Ron looked at him in disbelief and curiously for a second. "I know neither of us really had much regard for rules while at Hogwarts. But _THIS_? If I don't take you in and the Ministry found out then I'd be sent to Azkaban along with you!"

Harry smirked at him, "Is that so? Well then you'll just have to tell them I beat you and got away."

"No," said Ron. "I won't. I can't let you do this Harry!"

"And I suppose you are the one who is going to stop me?" asked Harry, his smile not wavering.

"Yes. It is possible to stop the _great_ Harry Potter." Ron's voice was filled with sarcasm as he said the word great. It was a title that Harry abhorred.

Harry shrugged, "Not for you it isn't. You're a great wizard Ron, I'll give you that. But you and I both know that only thing you've ever beat me at is a game of chess."

Ron stood in silence for several seconds, thinking, "You can't use that Harry," said Ron. "If you do then you'll be sentenced to . . . "

"Kissed by a Dementor, tossed through the veil, beheaded, drawn and quartered, Stewed or pickled for use in some potion, or some other method to kill someone. I know and I really don't care," said Harry as his smile vanished and his eyes clouded over. "All my life I've been surrounded by death. First my parents. Then Cedric, Sirius, Dumbledore, and . . . and Hermione. Death is something I can't escape Ron. It follows me as surely as my shadow. Always there no matter what I do. Sometimes I think that that's all I am, death incarnate. Or, at least, I've felt that way since Hermione was killed. I've been dead ever since that day, felt dead since. And the part of me that . . . that was . . . he died along with her in that cave."

"So . . . " Ron looked on in silence at his friend for several seconds. "What if you do save her? What'll happen then?"

Harry smiled at him and replied, "You know the answer to that Ron. You, me, everyone that's alive right now, everything thing that's happened since that day will cease to exist. This entire timeline will be erased, remade anew with things they way they should have been."

"And how do you know we'll be better off?" asked Ron. "How do you know that the future you'll create will be better than this?"

"I don't," replied Harry as he ran a finger over the crystal in the palm of his hand. "And before you say it, yes. I am being selfish. But I think I'm entitled to be selfish damn it. All my life I've been living by other people's rules. Other people's thoughts and ideas of what 'The-boy-who-lived' should be. I've never lived my life for me. Not until Hermione and I. I could be myself around her. I could let my guard down and just be. I'm sorry Ron. But just this once I have to be selfish. I couldn't live with myself if I wasn't. And don't look at me like that. I know what I'm doing is wrong. But I honestly don't care. For once in my life I'm doing something entirely for my own selfish desires."

"Harry . . . " Ron trailed off, letting Harry's words sink in. He knew there was no way to talk him out of this. With great unease he reached for his wand.

"You know you can't stop me," said Harry as the crystal began to glow in the palm of his hand.

Ron sighed and let his hand drop back to his side. Harry was right. Even if he really wanted to he couldn't. So why even bother trying? "I never could beat you or Hermione in a duel," said Ron before finding himself looking straight into Harry's emerald green eyes. The look in Harry's eyes melted away the last bit of Ron that wanted to do his job and at least attempt to stop Harry.

"Could you . . . " Ron stumbled for words for a second, "When are you going back to?"

Harry smiled at him, "You're a great friend Ron. I know I haven't said that in a long time." The crystal began to glow brighter and brighter. "I'm glad we were friends." The light became blinding. "See you in the past," said Harry as the light engulfed him, seemingly causing him to shrink into the crystal before it drew in upon itself and, with a soundless pop of light, he and the crystal were gone.

Ron blinked and rubbed at his eyes. "Good luck mate," said Ron before the graveyard disappeared.

* * *

Hot humid air pressed in around him as Ron grabbed a towel and dried off before wrapping it around his waist and walking over to the vanity. Picking up his wand, he silently began to run the tip over his face, removing the stubble that had grown since the previous morning, before suddenly freezing in place. A sudden sense of unreality taking over.

_This isn't right_, thought Ron as an odd feeling came over him. _I shouldn't be here. . I should be . . . be . . . _Where he should be he didn't know. But as suddenly as the feeling came it left him and he resumed shaving.

Running his hand over his now smooth chin he gave a satisfied nod and opened the bathroom door.

"Ronald!" came a voice from down stairs. "You better hurry up or we'll be late!"

"I'll be down in a minute!" replied Ron as his thoughts quickly turned to the witch downstairs. How he had kept himself from dragging her with him into the shower he didn't know. But the threat of making him cook his own meals for a week had probably had something to do with it.

Ron grimaced as he stepped on a bottle cap necklace. _How the bloody hell do I always manage to step on that thing . . . _thought Ron as he picked up the offending object and tossed it on the bureau. "Now where did I leave my. . . Luna!" he yelled, "Where's my-"

"On the back of the chair where you put it last night," came his wife's reply as she walked into the room and sat on the bed. "Your mother flooed today," said Luna as Ron pulled on his pants.

"What'd she want? No. Let me guess. She wanted to know when we're gonna give her a grandchild."

"Mmhmm." Luna picked up a copy of _The Quibbler_ from the nightstand, turned it upside down, and began to read. Or at least Ron assumed she read it. Though how she managed to do so with it upside down he did not know.

"I don't know why she keeps bugging us about it. She already has seven grandchildren and another on the way." Ever since Bill and Fluer had given her her first grandchild the woman had become obsessed. And her obsession only increased when Percy and Penelope had a beautiful little girl shortly after the start of Ron's seventh year at Hogwarts. Then, much to Molly's delight, Fred and George became the proud fathers of, in her biased opinion, the most adorable sets of twins in the world. A few months later Charlie had shown up with his girlfriend, Elysia, and nearly given his mother a heart attack. Molly had practically dragged them down the isle upon finding out she had a seventh grandchild on the way. And then there was Ginny and Neville. Neville had, upon graduating, agreed to take up a position as an assistant to Professor Sprout in preparation for taking over the task of Herbology professor and head of Hufflepuff house. His decision, it turned out, had much to do with the he and Ginny finding each other quite in love. The two had married shortly after Ginny's graduation and were expecting any day now.

"She just wants each of her children to have a family of their own," Luna replied in a dreamy voice as she turned a page.

"Well maybe I don't-"

"If you don't want to have children with me then just say so Ronald," said Luna in an emotionless tone that unnerved Ron.

Ron sat beside Luna and pulled her into his arms. "I do love." He kissed her gently. "It's just that I . . . I don't think I'm ready to be a father." Luna smiled at him and leaned against him.

"No one is ever ready to be a parent Ronald. No books or advice can prepare you for it." Ron snorted at her.

"I know someone who'd beg to differ about that," said Ron, earning a laugh from Luna.

"Maybe at one time. But Hermione has told me on more than one occasion that all the books and magazines she read didn't do her any good."

Ron grabbed a shirt hanging on the closet door and it pulled on. He couldn't help but smile at the memory of that day, now nearly three years past, when he had received and emergency owl from Harry telling him that Hermione had just gone into labor. Today was little Cassandra Lily Potter's third birthday.

"Ronald, while I think it makes quite the fashion statement, I don't think my blouse goes with those pants." Ron stopped and looked at himself in the mirror. His ears glowed red at seeing himself in the soft pink frilly blouse Luna had worn to the office for a quick meeting.

Luna giggled and swatted him on the bum. "Better hurry or they might cut the cake without you."

"Like hell. Cassie would never let them cut the cake without Uncle Ron being there to help."

~*~*~*~*~*~

**_The End_**

~*~*~*~*~*~

Please leave a review. Your feedback is always greatly appreciated and welcomed.


End file.
